


Sweet Lullaby

by Kappahjp



Series: Family Is A Feeling and Home Is Where The Heart Is [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Chan's parents are mentioned, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Oneshot, Protective Bang Chan, Team as Family, Woojin is mentioned, parental figure bang chan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25263370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kappahjp/pseuds/Kappahjp
Summary: Five Times Chan sang the others his childhood lullaby, and one time he had it sung to him.
Series: Family Is A Feeling and Home Is Where The Heart Is [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830292
Comments: 12
Kudos: 206





	Sweet Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Seungmin’s Small But Certain Happiness Ep. 7, when it was like 4 am and Chan and Seungmin were talking about lullabies and Chan had one he thinks his mother may have made up.  
> He said that he had sung it to the other members but none of of them had ever heard it before. Anyways, the idea of Chan singing a lullaby to the members was too adorable to pass up, so here we are.
> 
> Rated T for swearing only.
> 
> TW: Mentions of anxiety attacks.

_One_.

As per usual, Chan was burying his sorrow in the mountain of work that he had to do. It had been a rough day, one of the hardest in his entire seven years as a trainee, and he had been struggling all evening to shove down the feelings of abandonment and hopelessness that so often loved to show their faces. As soon as the cameras were off for the evening and the members had all gone to bed (those who remained, anyways), he had returned to the company.

JYP had been surprised to see him reentering the building at three in the morning and pulled him aside to check on him. He seemed genuinely apologetic and Chan had appreciated the concern but his boss was pretty much the the _last person in the world_ he wanted to talk to at that moment in time, so he bid his PD-nim goodnight and wandered in the direction of the practice-room-turned-studio that he shared with Jisung and Changbin to throw himself into preparing for their next task.

His productive distraction was interrupted by his phone ringing next to him. Glancing down at the caller I.D, he felt the knife in his gut do another full rotation. _Felix_. He fumbled to pick up the phone.

“Hello?” He said quietly.

“Chris?” Came Felix’s stuttering reply.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Chan said. “Are you alright?” And it was a stupid question, they both knew that, because _of course_ Felix wasn’t alright, he had just been _eliminated_ for gods’ sakes, but he didn’t know how else to start the conversation.

“No,” Felix answered, but he didn’t seem to take any offence to the question, so Chan was relieved. He stayed silent, waiting for the younger Aussie to continue, which he did, after a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and even through the phone Chan could hear that his voice was hoarse from sobbing.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Chan said. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I let you down.”

“You didn’t,” Chan said firmly. “If anything, **_I_** let _you_ down.” Felix let out a hushed sob.

“I should have been better,” he choked. “I should have worked harder.”

“You already did your best, Lix,” Chan said. “You did so well and I’m _so proud of you_. You didn’t deserve what happened today. It shouldn’t have happened to you and it shouldn’t have happened to Minho. JYP’S _crazy_.” Felix sobbed again.

“Why are you still up?” Chan asked gently. It was almost four in the morning and Felix had had a _decidedly_ bad day.

“It’s too quiet here,” Felix admitted tearfully. “There’s only four of us in this dorm and nobody really speaks.”

“Minho’s in your dorm, no?” Chan questioned.

“Yeah,” Felix said. “But he’s still at the studio, I think. He... I don’t think he knows. I haven’t seen him yet, and the other two kind of keep to themselves.” Chan hummed. At least the JYP staff had thought to put the two eliminated members together so they didn’t have to suffer alone.

“Do you want me to stay on the line until you fall asleep?” He asked gently.

“I- Would you mind?” Felix asked, and he sounded so desperate that Chan wouldn’t have been able to refuse him even if he had wanted to. “You’re not too busy?”

“Of course,” he said gently. “I can work and talk at the same time.”

“Thanks,” Felix said breathily.

“Are you in bed already?” Chan asked.

“Yeah,” Felix said, and now that Chan was paying closer attention he could hear the bed creak and the sheets ruffle whenever Felix shifted.

“Do you want to keep talking, or do you want to try to sleep?” He asked.

“I should probably sleep, but...” Felix trailed off, and Chan hummed his understanding.

“Do you want me to sing to you?” He asked. “I don’t know if it’ll help any, but then you don’t have to put effort into talking.”

“Yes please,” Felix whispered. Chan nodded, before starting to sing the first song that came to mind, the lullaby his mom used to sing him as a kid whenever he was upset and couldn’t sleep.

“I’ve never heard that one before,” Felix said once he had finished.

“Ah, really?” Chan asked. “My mom used it all the time when I was a kid.”

“I like it,” Felix murmured. “It feels like home. Keep going?”

Chan smiled and picked the song back up from the beginning. He continued humming the tune softly for a while, until he no longer heard fidgeting or rustling blankets, just deep, slow breaths.

“Felix?” He murmured softly, but there was no response. He smiled fondly.

“I’m gonna get you back,” he said. “Just you wait. I’m not gonna leave you behind.” And with that whispered promise, he hung up the phone and turned back to his computer.

_Two_.

Chan was awoken from his sleep by a loud whimper. He blinked rapidly, trying to reorient himself, before clueing into the fact that his roommate of the evening seemed to be panicking in the opposite bed, and was _dangerously close to the edge of it_. He lunged towards the other bed but was a second too late; its occupant plunged towards the hotel floor.

“Minho!” He gasped, dropping down next to the other. “Are you okay?” There was no response from the dancer, who seemed to be spiralling rapidly into a blind panic and who _still wasn’t awake_ , thrashing and flailing violently on the floor. Chan dodged a rogue hand before shaking the dancer’s shoulder.

“Minho!” He said again. “Minho, wake up!”

Minho bolted up with a gasp, looked around without really seeing, them curled into his knees and burst into tears. “Minho,” Chan said gently, reaching up to flick on the bedside lamp. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It was just a nightmare _._ Come on, stand up.”

“ ** _No!_** ” Minho cried, startling Chan with how quickly and violently his head snapped up. He scrambled backwards until his back was against the side of his bed. “No! I-“ His breathing was quickening at an alarming rate, and Chan was _very, very concerned._

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, crouching down next to the dancer. “Breathe, Minho.”

The younger sucked in a shallow breath, grabbing onto Chan’s arm for stability. Clinging tightly to Chan, he slowly managed to regain control of his breathing, sagging down in exhaustion. “It felt so real,” he said in a small voice that Chan had never heard from him before.

“What happened in your dream?” Chan asked, guiding his dongsaeng up to sit on the bed instead of against it.

“I- The tower,” Minho said. “You were there but you couldn’t hug me this time to stop it and the wind- the wind blew me off and I just kept _falling_ -“ he shuddered, and Chan let out a noise of sympathy and crushed the main dancer in a hug.

He knew Minho had a crippling fear of heights, and he knew that their film schedule on top of the viewing platform forty stories up earlier that day had been anything but fun for him. When they had had to pose for a photo against the city backdrop, Chan had made a point of hugging Minho tightly until they could step away from the railing to help him feel safer. He just hadn’t realized _how much_ the schedule had affected him.

 _“_ That sounds awful,” Chan murmured, and Minho nodded. “I’m sorry we had to go up there today.” Minho shrugged and took another calming breath.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, and even Chan, Mister The-Whole-World-Is-On-My-Shoulders couldn’t argue that. They had _no say_ in what that day’s schedule was.

“Do you want a water?” He asked the dancer, smoothing out his tousled hair. Minho nodded softly, and Chan immediately fetched a bottle from the mini fridge, opening it and handing it over. Minho accepted it gratefully, sipping slowly at it as Chan sat down next to him and rubbed the tension from his shoulders. Minho eventually dropped his head to Chan’s shoulder, and Chan took the water bottle and set it to the side, before moving to lay the dancer back down on the bed. He felt Minho go rigid as he did so.

“Relax,” he murmured. “You’re not going to fall, you’re in bed. Soft landing. Okay?” Minho gulped and nodded, allowing Chan to gently lower him back down. The dream seemed to have effectively traumatized the usually stoic member, as even once he was firmly lying down with his head on the pillow he was still cutting off the circulation on Chan’s hand.

“ _Relax_ ,” Chan said again. “Close your eyes and focus on breathing.” Minho did so, and Chan squeezed his hand in reassurance. He started singing quietly, the comforting words that used to soothe his own fears after nightmares wafting through the room.

“Are you singing me a lullaby?” Minho asked as he cracked his eyes open to pin Chan with a judgemental stare. “I’m not a kid, Hyung.” His actions spoke volumes, however, as he loosened his vice-like grip on Chan’s hand significantly. Chan smirked, leaning in close and dialling up the aegyo for the last three lines of the song, making Minho grimace.

“That was more terrifying than the dream,” he informed him, but Chan was too pleased by the return of Minho’s sass to be truly offended.

“Go to sleep then if I’m so scary,” Chan retorted.

“Maybe I will,” Minho yawned, closing his eyes.

“Night, Minho,” Chan grinned.

“Night, Hyung,” came the reply as Minho rolled back over and nestled further into the bed. Chan smiled and returned to his own, turning off the lamp as he did so. His smile grew tenfold when about twenty minutes later, Minho started mumbling the words to the song in his sleep.

_Three._

It was two in the morning when Chan had buzzed into the company building, armed with a backpack, Changbin’s favourite sweater and a spare umbrella. In a rare turn of events, he was _not_ the last member out that evening, having gone home to have dinner with Jisung earlier because “you promised, Hyung!” Instead, Changbin had decided to stay late, insisting that the four tracks he had already supposedly finished weren’t satisfactory and “I need to fix them ASAP, Hyung!” Chan had no idea why the middle member of 3Racha was suddenly feeling the crushing weight of perfectionism that needed to be achieved _right that very night_ , but he had agreed to Changbin staying “as long as you sleep eventually, Bin, we need you functional tomorrow.”

Changbin seemed to have taken the “eventually” to heart, and Chan’s leader sense had started tingling and informing him that something was off. So here he was, back at the company building on one of his rare nights were he wasn’t stuck getting his own work done. He couldn’t begrudge Changbin this, as he was all too familiar with the feelings the younger was experiencing.

He trudged his way to the 3Racha studio and poked his head in the door, seeing Changbin hunched over his computer in defeat, noise cancelling headphones still in place. Chan approached him softly and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump about a foot in the air and let out a yell, ripping off his headphones and turning to fight.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Chan said. Changbin slumped back in his seat.

“Don’t _scare_ me like that, Hyung,” he exclaimed, clutching his chest.

“Sorry,” Chan said, pulling up a chair. “How’re the tracks going?”

“Not great,” Changbin muttered, glowering at his laptop screen.

“Oh?” Chan said. “What’s the problem?”

“They’re just... _off_ ,” Changbin said, tweaking the sound byte on the screen, then undoing the change, then redoing it and moving it slightly to the right.

“Can I hear?” Chan asked.

“No!” Changbin snapped, and Chan reeled back in surprise at the ferocity of the denial.

“Okay,” he said. “You don’t have to show me, it’s fine. I was just wondering if I could help.”

“ _No_ ,” Changbin said again. “You can’t-“ He cut himself off, clenching his jaw shut and this _definitely_ had something to do with his leader sense being triggered earlier.

“Bin, are you okay?” Chan asked.

“Fine,” Came the reply.

“Really?” Chan pressed. “It’s just... you’re not usually quite so...”

“Quite so what, Hyung?” Changbin spat. “Go on, you can say it.”

“Easy,” Chan warned him. “I’m not here to fight you.” Changbin’s shoulders deflated.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just... I don’t know.” His fingers twitched nervously over the computer mouse, as if itching to make changes that just didn’t want to happen. Chan knew the feeling well. “I just can’t get them to sound right.”

“These are the ones you said you finished earlier, right?” Chan asked. Changbin nodded.

“And you were satisfied with them before?”

Another nod.

“Then I’m sure they’re great,” Chan concluded. “They probably don’t sound right because you’re exhausted and your brain is foggy. You need _sleep_ , Bin. I promise you the tracks won’t sound as bad in the morning once you’ve given yourself a break.”

” _You_ don’t take breaks,” Changbin said sullenly.

“Is _that_ what this is about?” Chan asked incredulously. Changbin shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“We’re supposed to be a team,” he admitted after a minute. “Equal partners. You shouldn’t be the only one running on zero sleep and picking up the slack from me and Jisung. It’s not fair that we get breaks and you don’t.“

“But Changbin,” Chan said, staring at the younger. “I take breaks _all the time_.”

“No you don’t,” the younger argued.

“I do. Actually- hang on a minute,” Chan said, standing quickly. “I’ll be back in a sec.” He ducked out of the room and made a beeline for his own locker down the hall, rifling through until he found what he was looking for: the throw-sized pillow and the Australian flag print blanket that he always kept tucked away in the back. Grabbing them, he headed back to Changbin, who looked very perplexed. “I keep them in my locker,” Chan informed him sitting on the couch. “So that I can take a nap when I need to. Come here.” Changbin shot him a disbelieving look but saved the track and sat down next to him.

“Changbin,” Chan said. “You do realize that you’re already pulling your weight in the group, right?”

“Evidently it’s not enough,” the other muttered.

“It’s more than enough,” Chan said firmly. “My busy schedule has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me being the leader and my chronic desire to work myself into the ground. At least, that’s what management keeps telling me.” He handed Changbin the pillow.

“Try for twenty-five minutes,” he said. “Then you should wake up between sleep cycles. I find if I sleep longer than that it makes me more groggy. I’ll wake you when it’s done and you can try again, and if you’re still too tired we can go home, and there’s nothing the matter with picking it back up tomorrow, okay?” Changbin nodded and curled up on the couch, and Chan covered him with the blanket. After a minute, Changbin groaned, turning over.

“I’m too stressed to sleep,” he whined, and Chan snorted. “You’ve barely tried. Come on, close your eyes.” He glanced down at the familiar blue and white star design of the blanket, hand tracing the lines of the Union Jack in the corner absentmindedly. It gave him an idea.

There had been one time, when he had first started out as a trainee, when he had called his mom in tears in the middle of the night, frustrated that he wasn’t performing as well as he would have liked. After talking him down and reminding him that he had already made her proud by even trying, she had started to sing him her signature lullaby, like she had since he was a baby. Nothing in the world could have reassured him more.

He started singing softly, and Changbin’s eyes fluttered open briefly, before he closed them again and relaxed into the song. He was out within minutes. Twenty-five minutes later, Chan shook him awake again, as promised. Changbin took one look at the track, exclaimed a quiet “oh!” and made exactly two changes. Listening through it once more, he smiled up at Chan and declared it done.

“That was so easy,” he said disbelievingly. “How did you know?” Chan shrugged and folded up the blanket.

“It’s like turning the brain off and on again,” he said. “Sometimes that’s all it takes. Save your work and let’s go home, our beds are more comfortable than the couch.” Changbin agreed willingly, accepting the sweater and umbrella Chan offered him. They closed up the studio and left the building.

“Hyung,” Changbin asked on the walk home. “What was that song you were singing earlier?”

“Huh? Oh,” Chan said sheepishly. “My mom used to sing it to me all the time when I was upset. I guess it’s just my go-to now.”

“I’ve never heard it before,” Changbin said. “But it works.”

_Four._

It was three in the morning and they were still on the road. It couldn’t be helped, there had been a major accident on the highway on the way home from the Busan fansign that had blocked all traffic for almost an hour. They had been stuck on their rented minibus for almost four hours already and everyone had reached their limits. Most of them were attempting to sleep, or were at least doing a quiet personal activity to unwind. Chan himself would absolutely _love_ to curl up against the window and doze off himself, but was prevented from doing so by the increasingly loud, increasingly aggressive bickering happening between the two youngest members in the back row. They had been arguing on and off all day, their pettiness towards each other rivalling that of Jisung and Hyunjin in their pre-debut days.

“-At least **_my_** voice didn’t crack onstage today, _Jeongin_!” And _okay_ , limits were being crossed here.

“Hey, hey, _hey!_ ” Chan said sharply, turning in his seat to glare at the boys. “That’s enough!” They both snapped their heads up to look at him, mouths hanging open.

“Hyung, he started it-“

“I did _not_ , you little shit! You told me my performance sucked first!”

 _“I said that’s enough!”_ Chan barked. “I don’t want to hear a _single word_ from either of you until we’re home. If you’re not going to say anything nice then don’t say anything at all.”

“But Hyung-“

“Not a _word_ , Kim Seungmin,” Chan growled. “You two aren’t the only ones exhausted but you _are_ the only ones kicking up a fuss and preventing the _rest of us_ from sleeping. **Pipe**. **_Down_**.” Seungmin slouched down in his seat with a huff, turning to glower out the window. Chan turned back to face the front, levelling the boys with one last warning look before going back to his phone.

He looked back a few minutes later when he heard a quiet sniffle. Sighing, he climbed out of his seat, moving carefully to the back and nudging Jeongin down the row of seats to sit down next to him.“‘M sorry!” Jeongin whimpered, grabbing onto his arm.

“Shhhh,” Chan said gently. “It’s okay, I get it. You’re exhausted, Baby. That makes it hard for anyone to control their temper. I know you two didn’t mean any of the mean things you said today.” He reached up with the arm not currently imprisoned in the maknae’s grip and wiped the maknae’s eyes. He honestly couldn’t tell if the redness was from emotional tears or simply the byproduct of too many hours without sleep.

“So let’s try to do something about the exhaustion, hm? Come on, try to sleep a little before we get home,” he continued. Jeongin nodded and let go of his arm to curl up into a ball next to him, using his legs as a pillow. On instinct Chan reached out a protective arm and rested it on the maknae to prevent him flying forward off the seats should the mini-bus brake suddenly. He began rubbing his thumb soothingly up and down the youngest singer’s bicep. The boy was entirely too tense still.

Chan had a sudden memory of an eerily similar situation he had found himself in as a child. A long car ride home from the beach, three exhausted kids (one asleep and two fighting incessantly) and equally exhausted parents. His dad had yelled at him and Lucas for fighting, and he had started _sobbing_. Lucas had started crying too, and Chan was pretty it was only because _he_ was, but he had no way to confirm his suspicions as Lucas was like, four at the time and probably wouldn’t remember.

Trapped by the confines of her seatbelt and the fact that they were driving a hundred kilometres per hour down the highway, his mother had turned around as much as she could in her seat and after getting his and Lucas’ attention, had started singing her favourite lullaby to them. It had put Lucas to sleep, and it had calmed him down enough to stop his wailing. 

Smiling at the bittersweet memory, he began singing the melody. He only got two lines in when he felt a tug on his sweater sleeve.He turned to face a timid Seungmin looking guiltily up at him. The second youngest mouthed a heartfelt “sorry” up at him, and Chan had to bite back a chuckle. _Of course Seungmin wouldn’t even break the speaking ban to apologize._ He pulled his second maknae closer to cuddle into his other side, before picking the lullaby up from the top. Soon enough they were both dead to the world, and Seungmin slipped off Chan’s shoulder to rest his head on top of Jeongin’s. It didn’t look even remotely comfortable but they were both content and asleep, so Chan let them be. He also dozed off, and was awoken by the lights coming on and his other band members starting to shuffle around to grab bags, sweaters and blankets. He looked down at his two youngest dongsaengs, heads still resting on each other in his lap. He really didn’t want to wake them up, they were so beyond tired and they were sleeping so peacefully.

He thought back to that same night in Sydney. His dad had carried him inside first when they had arrived home that night, despite him being conscious enough to walk on his own, and had kissed the top of his head as he set him down in the bathroom. Chan had been so relieved because his dad still loved him even after yelling at him. Could he...?

Not both, obviously. Not at the same time. He could ask one of the others, but he didn’t really want to. No, he would take one up first and then come back for the other.

Minho and Changbin had also woken up when they had arrived home, and had already started shepherding the other members of the maknae line into the elevator. Coming to his decision, he gently nudged a (still very much unconscious) Seungmin to lean against the window, before scooping up Jeongin and joining the others in the elevator, indicating to their manager that he would come down and grab Seungmin in a minute. The older man nodded, knowing glint in his eyes and sat back in the driver’s seat.

After depositing a now-semi-conscious Jeongin gently on his bed (awake was a bit of a stretch) and setting a pair of pyjama pants down next to him, he had ducked out of the room and sprinted down the stairs to retrieve the other maknae. The second youngest was dead weight in his arms, but Chan didn’t care. He briefly wondered if this was part of the reason his dad worked out so much, so that he would always be able to carry his kids. He made a mental note to devote more time to arms day at the gym. They arrived upstairs and Chan reluctantly shook Seungmin awake, knowing that the younger would want to _at least_ brush his teeth before bed.

 _Both_ of his parents had come in and sung the lullaby to him that night back in Australia, after Lucas and Hannah had been rinsed of salt water and sand and tucked into bed asleep, so he made a point of stopping into Jeongin and Jisung’s room for a minute to do the same, before migrating to the room he shared with Minho, Hyunjin and Seungmin. He somehow ended up falling asleep in Seungmin’s bed that night, and when he woke up the next morning his was squished between two maknaes. Seungmin didn’t even complain about the fact that none of them had showered before using his bed.

_Five._

The boys were on a mission. They had just gotten through security at the airport to catch a flight back home to Korea, and they were ready to find their departure gate, commandeer a row of seats and _crash_ for the next two hours. Chan watched from the back of the pack as they all hurried down the long hallway, pausing every fifty metres or so on the conveyer belt walkways. The walkways were supposed to help you shave minutes off your journey to your gate, but for Stray Kids, especially the maknae line, they served as a catwalk, as the kids took turns filming each other striking increasingly more outlandish poses every time they came across one. Chan smiled slightly. Normally the boys’ airport antics would make him laugh (except when said antics got out of control and led to exasperation, and later flat-out frustration), but today they didn’t seem to be helping settle the unease in his stomach.

 _Something was wrong._ He didn’t know what, but he had a gut feeling that something was off, and the last time he had had that feeling Jeongin had been followed home by a sasaeng at one in the morning. Needless to say, Chan _never ignored his gut_. He scanned the heads in front of him, doing a quick head count. Airport security was chaotic, and they had lost members to the throng before. They had lost Felix just last month.

All members were present and accounted for, and no one seemed to be limping or bleeding. That was good, at least. Sometimes that’s all you could hope for with airport mobs- he did a double take. _Jisung was walking funny_. He wasn’t limping, exactly... More like... stumbling? _And he was falling behind._

Chan glanced up. They were only two gates away from their designate waiting zone. All of the sudden, a large family of tourists rushed past them, loud and stressed. They were likely the “Anne Marie Baker and companions” who had been paged for last call boarding four times already. Chan watched as Jisung swayed, losing his balance and stumbling backwards, despite not being bumped or jostled.

 _“_ Jisung. _Jisung!_ ” He said urgently, lurching forward and grabbing the younger producer’s arm on instinct to steady him. Jisung flinched, and Chan let go as if burnt. The 3Racha maknae’s breathing was sporadic at best, but he kept walking (stumbling) until they reached the gate and dropped all their bags in a corner that was gloriously devoid of other travellers. Chan knew those signs. Off-balance, difficulty breathing, zoned out look in his eyes?

 _They were dealing with the onset of an anxiety attack_. Evidently the mob of enthusiastic fans who had swarmed them upon their arrival at the airport had been a bit too much for the teenager today.

Chan slowly, gently approached. “How bad is it?” He asked quietly, once Jisung’s eyes focused and met his own. “Give me a number, Sung, one to ten.”

“Seven,” Jisung ground out, grabbing his own arm tightly as his breaths started quickening again.

“Okay,” Chan said. “Okay. We need to get you somewhere quiet. Are you okay to move?”

Jisung nodded, and Chan scanned the terminal. “There’s a bathroom just over there,” he said, pointing across the terminal. “Do you think you can make it?” Jisung nodded.

“Do you want to hold onto me?” Chan asked. Another nod, and Jisung reached out and grabbed the his hand. He squeezed it reassuringly.

“We’ll go quick,” he murmured reassuringly. “Ready?” Receiving another nod, he gently pulled Jisung across the room and into the handicap bathroom. He closed and locked the door, and Jisung dropped and covered his head with his arms, wheezing frantically. Chan crouched next to him.

“Breathe,” he said. “ _Breathe_ , Hannie.”

 _“Can’t,”_ Jisung gasped.

“You can,” Chan said. “Follow my lead.”

He started breathing deeply and loudly, gently encouraging Jisung to do the same. After a few minutes, Jisung managed managed to calm down enough to get his breathing back to a safe rhythm. He let out a broken sob and threw himself at Chan, making him land on his butt with a thud on the airport bathroom floor. Chan should be grossed out, but he was just concerned. He scooted back against the wall by the door, gathering Jisung into his lap and rocking him slightly as he cried.

“Hyung?” Jisung asked timidly, looking up at Chan with big, red eyes. “Can you sing your mom’s song?”

Chan smiled gently. Mama Bang’s Song, as the members had affectionately named it, had become a catch-all cure for any emotional distress over the past two years, and they would often ask Chan to sing it whenever they needed that little extra bit of comfort. Jisung especially claimed that almost nothing could calm his anxiety as fast as the lullaby could. Chan started singing, and Jisung curled against him, putting an ear to his chest and closing his eyes. Chan kept singing and rocking the younger, feeling him go lax in his lap, until there was a knock on the door.

“Occupied,” he called gently, so as not to startle Jisung further.

“It’s me,” came their manager’s reply, muffled by the door. Chan reached up and unlocked the door. The manager opened it a crack. His face morphed from confusion to concerned understanding when he saw the two of them on the floor.

“Everything okay?” He asked, coming in and crouching down next to them.

“Give me a few more minutes,” Jisung mumbled, not even opening his eyes. “Then I’ll be okay.”

The manager nodded. “That crowd was a bit rowdy, huh, Kiddo?” He said knowingly. Jisung nodded, blinking his eyes open as more tears welled up in his eyes. Chan cooed and allowed Jisung nestle back into his chest. Now that touch was once again okay, Jisung seemed to be craving it.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” The manager said sympathetically, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Do you need anything? Maybe a water?” He asked.

“Coffee?” Jisung asked hopefully.

“No,” Chan said firmly, poking Jisung’s bottom lip as the younger pouted. “Coffee can make you more anxious and speed up your heart rate.”

“Hot Chocolate then,” Jisung said, opening his eyes to plead with them. _Sneaky little devil_. The manager smiled indulgently.

“Don’t tell the others,” he said. “This is for medicinal purposes only.” He ducked out of the room, closing the door behind him and Chan reached up to re-lock it. He ruffled Jisung’s hair.

“Hyung?” Jisung asked, looking up at him sleepily. “Can you sing to me again?” Chan chuckled before starting up again, only to be cut off three seconds later.

“Wait wait wait!“ Jisung cried, sitting upright and nearly bonking Chan in the face as he did. The younger reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone.

“What are you-?” Chan started before noticing that Jisung had opened up the voice notes app. “Don’t record me,” he sighed.

“Why?” Jisung whined. “The acoustics are _perfect_ in here!”

“You just killed the vibe,” Chan informed him, digging his fingers into Jisung’s ribs. The younger was obviously feeling better.

“But Hyung, it helps! And I wanna have it on hand because because what if you’re not there with me and I panic?” Oof. There went Chan’s heart, breaking again at the earnestness of that statement.

“I will _always_ be there for you. _Always_ ,” he said. “Even if I’m not with you in the moment, you can always call me if you need me.”

“But what if you’re not there and I’m stuck in a room full of people that are all slowly marching ominously towards me to smother me to death and I have no cell service so I can’t call you and I need to talk myself down from a panic?” Jisung whined in one breath and _seriously, how did this kid come up with this stuff?_

“First of all, if you’re in a room full of people who are intent on killing you you should be calling the police, not me,” he responded. “But if you _really_ want the recording...”

“ _Yes!_ ” Jisung cheered, settling back down. “Okay, I’m ready,” he said. Chan sighed, but sang anyways, finishing the recording with a murmured “Hyung will always be here for you, Hannie” at the end. Jisung beamed up at him as he hit save.

“You ready to go back out there?” Chan asked, kissing Jisung’s hair. Jisung nodded, climbing out of his lap and pulling him up into the standing position before turning to grab the door handle. Chan reached forward to stop him.

“Wash your hands, airport bathrooms are disgusting,” he said, redirecting Han to the sink. The younger rolled his still-red eyes but did as he was told, and waited for Chan to do the same. They linked hands as they made their way back across the terminal to their gate, _just in case_.

Jisung was sat in front of Chan on the plane that night. Four hours into the flight, Chan was still wide awake. Felix and Jeongin were asleep next to him, had been since an hour after takeoff. Through the crack between the seats, Chan could make out Jisung’s phone screen, still open to the voice notes app on his phone, which he held limply in his hands as he smiled sleepily, his head on Changbin’s shoulder. _He had the lullaby playing on a loop._

_Plus One._

“Hyunjin?” Chan approached the younger dancer, who was sitting at the cafeteria table, not eating, just staring into space. “Are you okay?” Hyunjin looked up at him, and Chan winced internally when he saw the bags under his eyes. He sat down next to the boy.

“I’m fine, Hyung,” Hyunjin said, but he sounded anything but that.

“I don’t think you are,” Chan said gently, stroking Hyunjin’s hand. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Hyunjin shook his head.

“I’m just tired,” he said, looking down at his barely-touched meal. Chan nodded. He was aware of every layer of meaning packed into those three words.

“You’re not sleeping, are you?” He asked knowingly, and Hyunjin tensed, then nodded.

“For a couple weeks, right?” Chan asked.

“I can sleep sometimes,” Hyunjin said. “Sort of. Just... not all the time.” He didn’t add any more, didn’t need to. Chan understood perfectly.

“Come find me next time, yeah? I’m not sleeping either and misery loves company,” He murmured. Hyunjin nodded blankly.

That very same night, Chan was working at the table in the kitchen, when he felt someone come in behind him. Taking off his headphones, he smiled sadly up at Hyunjin, wrapped in an oversized hoodie and eyes red. He couldn’t tell whether it was from crying or just exhaustion. He set his laptop aside and stood, pulling the boy into a hug before leading him over to the couch. He laid down on his side, pulling Hyunjin down next to him and wrapped a protective arm around the younger rapper’s waist.

“Can’t sleep?” He murmured gently into Hyunjin’s hair. Hyunjin nodded.

“Wanna talk about it?” Hyunjin’s breath stuttered.

“I hate him,” he whispered, curling tighter into Chan’s arms. “I hate him and I’m mad at him but it feels like failure with him not here.” Chan didn’t need to clarify who.

“I know,” he said sadly. “We tried so, so hard to make things work.” Hyunjin let out a muffled sob, and Chan kissed his hair gently. “It’s okay, Jinnie,” he said. “Let yourself grieve.”

Hyunjin broke down in his arms, shaking violently as he let out heartbreaking sobs, muffled in his hands so as to not wake those still sleeping in the next room. Chan felt his own tears well up, and he forced them back; Hyunjin needed him to be strong right now. He could take his turn to process later. He focused instead on being a grounding presence for the younger.

Hyunjin had looked up to Woojin, _depended on Woojin_ in the beginning, and therefore had taken the hit especially hard when everything went to hell in a handbasket the last few months. Chan had seen how the young dancer had tried to hide it, had tried to suppress his emotions for the sake of promotions, stealing himself away to smother his sobs in the shower, in a maintenance closet, behind a couch. But hiding and downplaying emotions wasn’t who Hyunjin was and it had taken its toll on him.

Hyunjin wore his heart on his sleeve, unguarded and there for the world to see. He felt everything deeply, and often got overwhelmed by the sheer power of his emotions. He trusted easily and with every fibre of his being. To see him shut down and try to hide, at the expense of losing sleep, all because he wasn’t allowing himself to feel things through... Chan had been worried. _So, so worried_. In a way he was glad that Hyunjin was finally getting things out of his system, even if it was crushing his soul to have to hear it.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to tell Hyunjin that everything was alright because it wasn’t. Instead, he started humming that familiar tune, the one that sounded of warmth and comfort and _home_. A wordless reminder that even though times were difficult, they still had a home in each other. He started singing softly, letting the lullaby wash over him as well as Hyunjin, who stilled briefly in his arms, before turning over and burying his face in Chan’s chest. Soon enough, Hyunjin took a deep breath before he, too, started singing the song, voice hoarse from crying but soft and sweet all the same. And Chan choked up, because Hyunjin _knew the words_. He hadn’t, two years ago; none of the other boys had, but now he knew the words intimately, and he knew what they meant to Chan. _And he was singing them back_.

Chan closed his eyes for a minute, overwhelmed and Hyunjin continued the song without him, reaching up with a sweater paw to dry his own eyes before wiping the ones now streaming down Chan’s face. Chan took a deep breath, and they finished the song together, and after they held the last note just a second too long Chan pulled the younger impossibly closer.

“Thank you,” he murmured, giving the younger a watery smile. Hyunjin smiled back, obviously too tired to say anything, before closing his eyes and finally, _finally_ going to sleep. Chan reached up and grabbed ahold of the towel that was hung on the back of the couch; it wasn’t a blanket but it would do for now, and used it to cover them both. Then he, too, closed his eyes and let Hyunjin’s presence continue to reassure him. He still had Hyunjin. He still had Minho and Felix and Changbin and Jisung and Seungmin and Jeongin. _They were going to be alright._


End file.
